


Spectrophilia

by definitelyflowers



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dover Ghost - Freeform, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Forest Sex, Frottage, Gentle Kissing, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 12:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11646306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelyflowers/pseuds/definitelyflowers
Summary: Robert doesn't expect to find anything on his ghost hunt, not until something in the woods makes itself known.





	Spectrophilia

Robert holds his flashlight between his teeth as he rifles through his pack for some granola bars. They fell to the bottom—typical—and after a long day of hiking, all he wants is to relax and spent the night under the stars, campfire blazing.

The monster hunt has failed so far, but he expected as much.

There aren’t any real monsters in Maple Bay. Ghost tours are fun, making up stories with Mary and Neil is hilarious, but something _actually happening_?

He has his doubts.

The truth of it is, he likes the time alone. Hunting for cryptids bores Mary half to death. Sometimes she’ll tag along on his adventures, but not out into the woods. Ever. Neil’s okay, but Robert isn’t sure if he trusts him enough to spill the beans on this part of his life, so he’s ventured out alone.

Not that he minds. This is where he finds peace. Peace to think. Peace to be himself.

Peace to _enjoy_ himself.

Robert pulls a half-crushed granola bar out from under his first aid kit and flops down onto his sleeping bag. He peels it open, leans against the tree, and starts picking out the larger pieces to nibble on to stave off his hunger.

What he can’t stave off is the tightness of his groin. It grows the more he tries to ignore it—also typical. There’s nothing that really makes him horny, but the privacy of the woods and the cold air promises a night where he won’t be disturbed.

Sometimes his mind flashes to Neil, the new guy in his life and…eh, maybe getting together. Neil is handsome, sure, but things seem to be getting pretty serious between him and Damien, and Robert has promised himself not to get involved with another relationship.

That line of thought causes him to think back to Joseph. What a mistake that guy was, but fuck, the sex was good. Great, even. The man knew how to exert control, and Robert misses being dominated in bed. Joseph was always coming up with ideas that could have gotten them killed. Like that strangling shit.

He grunts and unbuttons his jeans.

Fuck it.

If he’s going to be a loner out in the woods all night eating a crushed granola bar, he’s going to do it the way he likes: jacking off to the sounds of wilderness.

Heat radiates off the small campfire he built in the clearing. The stars glimmer through the leafy canopy above, and Robert rests his head against the trunk of the tree, staring up at them as he slides his cock out of his underwear and strokes himself to full hardness.

He groans and takes another bite of the granola bar. It’s not his fully stocked drawer of snacks beside his bed, but it’ll do. He didn’t bother with lube, of course, because he didn’t really expect to be jerking it in the woods after a failed ghost hunt, but it still feels nice enough. His rough palm traces the skin of his length, fingers massaging in just the right way. A man doesn’t live four and a half decades without learning how to jack it, and Robert knows what he wants without having to think, gasping as he runs his thumb over the leaking head of his arousal.

 _Jesus_ , that’s good stuff. He finishes off the last big bite of his bar and shuts his eyes, thrusting into his fist with abandon.

A twig snaps somewhere in the woods. Likely a raccoon. Robert doesn’t care. He keeps stroking himself and moaning until his skin tingles with pleasure. Maybe it’s a little odd when things grow quiet, but he’s so absorbed in getting off that he doesn’t notice, not until a coldness creeps over him, one so visceral Robert’s stomach curdles with fear.

His eyes fly open.

The man crouched before him, what little Robert can make out of his face, has his fingers outspread, inches away from Robert’s arousal. They aren’t fingers, though, but something else entirely. Claws? It seems they are made out of darkness, the edges blurring against the shadows cast by the surrounding trees. The nails are sharp, covered in some sort of wetness that shines in the firelight.

Yellow eyes bore into him.

“What the _fuck_?” He asks the... the creature. Though he wants to jump to his feet and run, Robert can’t bring himself to move. He sits there as the man—maybe a man—crawls onto his lap, straddling his thighs. This close, he can smell the rot on its breath. He can feel the coldness of its body seep into his bones, and he shivers. His blood turns to ice the longer it stares at him, and dread wells up inside him when it opens its mouth to speak, sharp teeth visible in the dim light.

“Were you looking for me?” It asks, cocking its head to the side. “All this talk of ghosts. Are you afraid?”

It puts its hands on his chest and leans so close that their lips brush together.

Is it...

Kissing him?

Yes, its lips are on his, its mouth moving in a way strangely reminiscent of a kiss. It scoots further up Robert’s lap until their crotches are flush, and it slides its hands down, down until one is grasping Robert’s cock. It strokes him and moans against his mouth, and Robert can’t help his positive reaction.

“I— What the fuck?” He repeats. It’s all he can muster.

“Do you think wandering around asking for proof of life after death gets you no attention? I’ve been watching you, Robert.”

He swallows as it trails kisses along his jaw, stopping to nip at the bottom of his ear.

“What are you?”

“Oh, I’m not quite sure anymore. I used to be Wyatt. I like you.”

It—he—tightens his grip on Robert’s arousal, pressing his own cold length against Robert’s stomach. Robert gasps at the friction, unable to push away. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, only that he likes it. His body responds to the touch, and he loses himself as the… as Wyatt leans forward once again to capture their lips into a fierce kiss.

Robert finds the strength to shove at Wyatt’s chest.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Wyatt shrugs.

“You wanted this. You kept calling, asking for someone to respond. Here I am.” His yellow eyes burn into Robert’s. “Am I not what you hoped for?”

He adjusts his hold on Robert’s cock, pinning their lengths together with long fingers. They are icy cold, and Robert has to bite his lower lip to stop from crying out at the sensation. He never knew ghosts could have physical forms, if that’s what Wyatt is, and Robert rocks into his hand, overcome with desperation.

“God, it’s so _good_ ,” he whispers. Against his neck, Wyatt grins.

“I’m glad you find me suitable.”

Robert slings his arms around Wyatt’s back, needing to be closer, and moans as Wyatt continues to stroke their arousals together. He holds the _presence_ to him for a long time before wedging one hand between their bodies, removing Wyatt’s cold grip from around them and replacing it with his own warm and sweaty hand. The sudden change in temperature draws another moan from his lips, and Robert can’t think beyond the very physical need twisting his gut. It’s as if Wyatt has possessed part of his mind, the logical part, and left him with nothing but pleasure.

His pace is not nearly as steady as Wyatt’s, but the man-ghost- _thing_ grunts with pleasure.

“Thank you,” he says then plants a firm kiss to Robert’s mouth. Their tongues tangle together, hot and cold, and Robert stops trying to think entirely. Whatever is happening, he doesn’t want it to stop. His skin burns despite Wyatt’s unnatural cold. His cock leaks as his orgasm approaches, and he’s so ready, so full of want, as Wyatt slides back down his thighs and bends over, his lips mere inches from Robert’s length. “May I?”

Robert nods. His mouth hangs open in a little _O_ as Wyatt’s lips wrap around him. It’s nothing like Robert has ever experienced before. The saliva he expects isn’t quite the same texture. There is no breath against him. There is only Wyatt’s yellow eyes, focused on his face, to remind him that this is actually happening, and Robert flushes red. He grabs Wyatt by the hair, expecting anything other than the softness against his palms, and pushes him down until a normal man would choke.

Wyatt does no such thing. Instead, he takes Robert deeper than should be possible. Robert’s eyes widen in surprise.

“I don’t get it,” he says, exasperated and close to the edge. Wyatt continues to swallow him down, and Robert stops caring about anything beyond getting off. He’s so close, and Wyatt is so ghastly and beautiful.

Robert squeezes his eyes shut. A long, low moan escapes him as his orgasm washes over. His balls clench as he empties himself into Wyatt, whatever Wyatt really is, and the other man drinks it all down. Every last drop.

“Shit.” Robert’s voice is hoarse. Wyatt pulls away, and in the dim light of the fire, Robert can see the glisten of something on his hand. His cock is soft between his translucent thighs.

“Thank you,” he repeats.

Robert nods, and Wyatt smiles gently.

“Sleep, now,” he says. His hands come to Robert’s cheeks, stroking the stubble, and his smile is kind, loving. “I promise I’ll show myself again. If you wish.”

Robert does as Wyatt commands. Sleep comes quickly, and when he opens his eyes to the morning light, Wyatt is gone. So are any traces of his presence.

He isn’t sure if it was real or some sick fantasy conjured up by loneliness, but either way, he determines to never speak of it.

And yet… Maybe his next ghost hunt will come sooner than he originally planned.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses. This is who I am. Comments and kudos really appreciated. Pretty please. 
> 
> You can request stories [here](definitelyflowers.tumblr.com).


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